little birds like this one? Surely she’s better off here than in the streets.’”
The hand still covering her burn tightened and Heedson leaned against Grace’s back, his stomach pushing against her. “Someone knew well enough what to do with you, didn’t he, little chickadee?” Heedson whispered in her ear.
The smell of him, the maleness surrounding her, the wine-soaked words in her ear flowed through Grace, filling the gaping hole of herself that she had trained to become only a shell, a carrier for the life within. Horror filled the chasm that had been, and every word, every utterance, every time she had stamped down her own name or bit back a cry of pain came pouring out in an incoherent shriek as she grabbed her fork, slamming it through the web between his thumb and forefinger, straight down into the table below.
FIVE
Grace expected blood, but there was none. Whatever word she had meant to shriek had scraped the inside of her throat, and every breath she drew burned like fire creeping through the divots left behind. She counted two dragging breaths before Heedson started screaming. The others pushed away from the table, Mrs. Ubry going over in her chair and upending her water glass. Holstein had pulled out her bun and was wrapping her hair around her face in an effort to hide. Shocked into stillness, Grace could only stare as Heedson jerked the fork free from his impaled hand, blood finally flowing between his fingers.
Mrs. Clay was at her side, urging her from her chair while keeping a wary eye on Heedson. “Dear . . . Grace . . . ,” she was saying, the name still unfamiliar on her tongue. “Come along now, you’ve had a shock.”
Mrs. Clay had her by the elbow when Heedson backhanded Grace hard enough to send both women to the floor in a pile of skirts. Her belly struck first and Grace cried out as the impact rolled through her body, the baby kicking in feeble protest.
“You little bitch . . .” Heedson lunged for Grace, yanking her to her feet. Two more practiced swipes of his hand sent her head ricocheting back and forth, his blood spattering across her cheeks, her hands still protectively clutching her belly.
Mr. Baltingham grabbed Grace from behind, backpedaling her out of Heedson’s reach, while Mrs. Clay wrapped her arms around the doctor’s knees to stop him from following. Croomes burst in from the hallway, skidding to a halt at the sight.
“Christ in heaven, what’s happened here?”
Heedson yanked a napkin from the table and began wrapping it around his hand. “Grace is what happened here, Mrs. Croomes. It appears I made a mistake when compiling the list of those I deemed reasonably sane.”
“Or maybe two,” Mr. Crow added while he calmly filled his plate, gesturing to where Holstein lay, her face wrapped in her own hair.
Marie appeared behind Croomes, red and out of breath. “I heard the fuss . . . ,” she began, then saw the blood-spattered table. “What on earth?”
“Miss High and Mighty has gone and stabbed Heedson,” Croomes said.
“That’s nonsense,” Marie argued. “She’s not got a violent bone in her—”
Grace’s newfound voice burst forth again, feral and wordless as she bucked in Baltingham’s arms. Though he meant only to steady her, he’d not released his grip and she fought against him. He let her go and she slid to the ground, wrapping her arms around her midsection.
“Get her up,” Heedson said, tucking the ends of the napkin into a makeshift bandage. “Croomes, Marie, take this girl down to the laundry and sheet wrap her. She is a harm to herself and others.”
“Dr. Heedson, please,” Mrs. Clay said, pulling herself into a chair. “Send her to the infirmary. She’s had a fall and in her condition—”
“Been bashed a bit about the face too,” Mr. Crow added around a mouthful of ham. “Though that’s not got much to do with the fall.”
“I’m the one who needs a doctor,” Heedson screamed, brandishing his hand as he did. “She’s insane. She’ll be treated as such. Croomes.” He snapped his fingers and the nurse was happy to comply, peeling one of Grace’s arms away from her midsection while Marie wrestled with the other.
Grace moaned, no longer able to keep sounds inside of her now that pain was filling her core and pushing everything outward. Croomes bent her arm awkwardly at the elbow and forced her to her feet. Marie was on her other side, her grasp not unkind but tight